Master of Destiny
by LalaKisses
Summary: Scarlett, castle scullery maid extraordinaire, wants to stop the king's war council from secretly sacrificing virgins on a regular basis. This ambition will cost her dearly, and the most unlikely creature-a wolf-comes to her aid.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: This story uses a mish-mash of the themes of Little Red Riding Hood, Beauty and the Beast, and Cinderella. I do not own any of these storylines.

A/N: This is just the intro-slash-teaser for a story I have started writing. If it sounds promising or enjoyable, let me know and I will post more!

Prologue: The Fairy Tale

I would like to think that we are all the masters of our own destinies, and that no matter the circumstances of our birth, we all have an equal opportunity to rise up and achieve greatness—if only we work hard enough. Unfortunately, this is not the truth.

I was born into the life of a simple scullery maid. My mother was one of the royal kitchen maids at the palace of Murdogh, and I was the result of her affair with a courtier she refused to name. Other than the accidental pregnancy thing, though, Mother was brilliant. Her official title was Royal Chambermaid, but she really should have been Palace Psychologist. She counseled the gardener and the cook about their marriage problems and advised the Royal Milkmaid on her self-esteem issues while slipping the toddler-aged Princess Celestine motherly words of wisdom to keep the girl's feet on the ground despite her ever-doting parents, the king and queen, who would have spoiled her.

As for me, she made me the luckiest servant's child in the entire palace, for she taught me to read and write. Occasionally, to my delight, she told me stories.

"… And so Prince Charming whisked Cinders the Maid away to his palace, for he had fallen in love with her the night of the ball. And they lived happily ever after," Mother would recite to me.

"But, Mama, how could the prince ever admire a maid like Cinders?" I asked, ever the critical child. "She was cowed by her family all her life. Certainly her meekness would have been a dead giveaway to her true status."

"Cinders was 'cowed,' hmm?" Mother chuckled her lovely, throaty chuckle. "That's a new vocabulary word for you."

"Well?" I persisted, not to be deterred from my original question.

"Scarlett, our circumstances change us more than we give them credit for," Mother explained to me. "A servant may be submissive and humble because that is what he is trained to be; it is his job. A king may be hard and imperious because it is his situation that he must always make decisions and give orders; he was raised to take orders from no one. So, you see, in the story, without her wicked stepmother around to tell her she was worthless and ugly, Cinders was able to become a confident and charismatic young woman who could win any man's heart."

The story of Cinders and Prince Charming was one of the most common children's tales in the kingdom, and it was told (by anyone other than my mother) so that the moral was that if a girl did her work uncomplainingly, a prince would someday sweep her away to his palace—provided she was beautiful, of course. I liked Mother's version better.

"But don't we have any choice in who we are, even if we grow up in difficult situations like Cinders?" was my next question.

"Of course! You just have to look at yourself a little more closely to make sure you are on the path you want to be," was her reply. To this day, I think that particular statement of hers was far too optimistic.

I will not credit myself, nor most of the people I know, with any personal, life-changing introspection. It was a single event, outside my control, that changed my path.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would adore you if you took time out of your fiction-consuming to write me a quick review. =D


	2. An Educated Mind Leads to Trouble

Disclaimer: This chapter is rather original, but ultimately this story is inspired by other fairy tales, which I do not own.

A/N: Thanks for your encouragement, Cetababe!

I had planned to get this out sooner, but I ended up rewriting the first part.

Chapter One: An Educated Mind Leads to Trouble

My nightly forays into King Valjean De Leir's private library were hardly a risk; I am embarrassed to say that our noble monarch barely touched those dusty old tomes. This fact did not esteem the king in my mind, for I was in love with literature in such a way that I could not help but disparage any literate person who did not share my passion. My mother had educated me too well when she taught me to read, and would be horrified to learn that every night I crept into the forbidden room, light as a mouse and armed only with a tallow candle, ready to conduct my passionate affair with prose.

Like a sated lover, I emerged from the library at midnight with bags under my eyes, mind rolling with ideas from Hammond's _Philosophy of Autonomy_ or Gerrod's _Epic of Sage_. I returned, dust-covered, to the quarters I shared with my mother, collapsed into bed, and woke early to bathe in the lake and wash the incriminating layer of book-dust from my skin.

I blame my age—my impetuous fourteen-year-old self was probably the only servant in the history of the kingdom of Murdogh arrogant enough to sneak regularly into his majesty's library. Excepting the unused library, King Valjean guarded his private quarters jealously. Our king wasn't a warmonger, but he was certainly a bit paranoid and it was common knowledge that his study was loaded with secret contingency war plans against various bordering countries.

I pondered our kingdom's state of affairs during one of my early morning baths in the lake behind the palace. The cooks always prattled on that the king would try to marry his daughter Celestine to one of the princes of Beaurmont in order to forge an alliance. But our eccentric king had scandalized the populace by announcing a series of Cinders-the-maid style balls in honor of his daughter's upcoming fifteenth birthday. Every single citizen of Murdogh and of the neighboring kingdom of Beaurmont besides, right down to the lowliest pig keeper, were invited to don their best and attend. Such a thing was unheard of. Surely the king didn't mean for the gorgeous golden-haired Celestine to be introduced to a bunch of pig-keeping potential suitors?

Every girl in Murdogh was ready to spontaneously combust in anticipation of such an event—except the ones on the royal staff, like me, who would do nothing more at the ball than serve wild roast hart to guests and put up with the higher up servants' lousy tempers. The housekeeping staff was in an uproar trying to prepare the palace for such a huge event. Not to mention the cooks, who were trying to prepare all that food in time, and attitudes were running fouler than ever.

"What the hell are you doing in here, you little urchin?" Clara, the head cook, had shrieked at me earlier that morning when I had stopped by the kitchen on my way to the lake to snag a sweet roll. She glared at my dustiness as though I were going to contaminate the entire room. I ducked out. "And don't even think about coming back in until you've got that muck off you, Scarlett!"

If that was what things were going to be like until the ball was over, the next week would be hell. I would have to walk on eggshells around the cooks if I ever wanted to eat again.

Determined to finish my bath quickly in order to have another crack at those sweet rolls, I ducked my head under the water, rinsing my hair. When I resurfaced, my movements immediately froze.

_Oh fuck._

I stared stupidly at the man mounted on a royal saddled-steed at the edge of the lake. He was not fifteen yards from me. He blinked at me as dumbly as I stared at him.

I hadn't wanted to meet the king in the library, but I certainly hadn't wanted to run into him here either.

What was I to do? My first instinct was to curtsey to his Highness, but given my nudity, and the fact that I was underwater, that seemed ridiculous. I didn't know what to do.

It was clearly the king. His saddle bore the royal emblem of Murdogh and he was dressed from head to toe in royal garb with a well-trimmed graying beard. Being well-trimmed was a sign of nobility. If I were a middle-aged woman and not fourteen, I might have found him handsome.

"My lady," the king ventured to call out.

The words broke the freaky moment in time, and I had the sense to duck under the water so my shoulders were covered, in an attempt to preserve my modesty. "My Lord," I returned humbly, inclining my head. _Oh my God, I was sneaking around his library twenty minutes ago,_ was all I could think of.

The king was clearly a little unnerved by the awkward situation, but not as humiliated as I. "A hundred apologies for my intrusion, my lady," he managed, with a good amount of grace. It seemed the proper thing to say. I had no idea what the proper thing for _me_ to say under these circumstances was.

"Venthro couldn't have done it better," I called back to him, referencing an old legend in which the knight Venthro had stumbled upon a young woman bathing in the woods. Instead of taking advantage of her, he averted his eyes as she came out of the water and clothed herself. In return, the young woman, who was actually a witch, gifted him with a magical sword for his decency. It was an old, obscure but classic tale I found in the king's library. I meant to compare the king's gentlemanly behavior with the character Venthro. Too late after I said it I wondered if the king would even get the reference—I knew he didn't exactly frequent the library. And did it even make sense for a scullery maid to be privy to such literature?

The king had looked about to trot off, but he lowered his reins after I spoke, looking intrigued. "What is your name, my lady?" he asked.

"Scarlett Pennington, Highness," I inclined my head again as I introduced myself, still horribly embarrassed, and shivering in the lake water. "I'm a scullery maid in the castle—your castle," I corrected myself.

"A scullery maid? How does a maid come to know such stories?" the king mused, looking directly at me.

"My—my mother is quite clever. She knows lots of stories," I explained, willing my stammer to cease.

"And what is your mother's name?" the king pursued.

"Geraldine Pennington," I answered, and nodded when he asked if she was a maid as well. I was certain he didn't suspect my presence in his library—there was no way of him knowing—but his questions made me nervous all the same.

"I'm immensely fond of the _Venthro Trials_, Scarlett" the king told me, speaking of the entire collection of the tales about the knight Venthro. "They are one of my favorite fictions."

"I find Cristól rather dry," I replied frankly, referring, of course, to the author of the _Venthro Trials._ I don't know what make me so bold to disagree with a king. But the stories were truly insipid. Honestly, a story about an honorable knight and a bathing woman? How trite.

It was then, I think, that I had the king hooked. Perhaps it was the surprise of discussing classic literature with a servant, or maybe he found a spark of intelligence in my eyes that most women lacked. It could have been that I wasn't wearing any clothes, although I doubted the king would be attracted to the body of a half-starved kitchen girl his daughter's age.

"What is it you like then?" he asked, amused.

I shrugged demurely.

"Really? No answer, even after tearing down old Cristól?" the king was very amused.

"I like Thristle," I finally admitted, naming a favorite author.

"Thristle the political philosopher?" the king looked stunned, then curious. "I don't know that I agree with some of his ideas on warfare."

He was testing me, to see how I would respond, if I knew enough to start an intelligent debate on the subject.

"I'm sure you're right, Majesty," I deferred simply, using politeness to avoid being drawn into debate. I didn't have a specific reason for wanting to end this conversation, but I knew this wasn't normal. Maids and kings didn't discuss politics. At least, not with each other.

The king seemed to contemplate me for a moment, then finally, he picked up the reins. "Thank you for a stimulating conversation. I bid you a good morning, Scarlett. Perhaps I will see you again." With that, he rode off.

It was strange that the king would say that. _"Perhaps I will see you again?"_ Too informal, too friendly.

The sheer dumb luck of this stupid chance run-in changed the course of my life. Whenever I think back on it, it is almost painful. I shudder at how easily it might not have occurred. My life would have been so different. So much simpler, but far less meaningful.

I told my mother about the incident. She was horrified.

"He didn't touch you, didn't say anything improper?" she demanded, convinced the king had been sizing me up sexually.

The conversation had been strange, but I didn't think anything _improper _had been said, exactly. "He talked about books."

Clara the cook snorted from over by the stove. "What _kind_ of books?" she asked knowingly, and I knew her mind was in the gutter with her filthy romance novels. As if the king would read, let alone discuss bodice-rippers.

Mother was in complete disbelief that an innocent subject like books had been the topic discussed. She distrusted all courtiers on principle on account of my father. "He hinted that he'll see you again?" She tried from a different angle.

"What kind of saddle was he riding on?" asked Clara, offering more sage advice. "You can always tell what a man's intentions are by the type of saddle he uses."

"Fuck saddles, Clara!" Mother shouted. "I want to know the facts, not wives' superstitions."

I wasn't worried about what my mother was for a second. Certainly the king wasn't attracted to my scrawny pubescent body, despite that my breasts were starting to mature rather quickly. I wasn't much to look at, anyway, with my straw-colored short-hacked hair, flat nose, muddy-colored eyes. And to top it all off, I had been covered in filthy lakewater.

Mother and I (and gossipy old Clara too) were forced to wait in curiosity for two days until the king's personal messenger wandered down to the kitchens looking for a maid by the name of Scarlett Pennington. I received summons to the king's private chambers. Mother insisted on coming with me, and the messenger reluctantly agreed that she could accompany me on the grounds that she was, after all, my guardian.

The room we were escorted to was tucked away in the back of the castle by the royal family's chambers. Inside was the king himself, as well as two other men. The room was eerie and undecorated. It was lit entirely with candles, as there were no windows and thus no natural light. The men were clustered around a large table, upon which a map of the neighboring kingdom of Beaurmont was spread.

"Mistresses Pennington, I presume," the King greeted us cordially. "I must introduce you to General Worthington—" he pointed to the beefy man in military garb with a jolly face "—and my advisor, Lord Ricardo." Lord Ricardo was a skinny, sallow-faced man with hair black as an unopened bud of deadly nightshade. Lord Ricardo shot a rather beady look at my mother.

"Scarlett, I asked you here in the hope that you would be willing to perform a service to your country." The king laid it on thick. "Tonight General Worthington is going to the peace talks in Beaurmont—and I want you to accompany him."

I'm sure Mother and I looked positively comical. "Me?" I asked, before she could.

"Absolutely. Nothing is so inspiring to a hardened warhorse like Beaurmont's lead war general than an innocent symbol of youth and intelligence," proclaimed Lord Ricardo, his face suddenly shining with pride at the idea of youth and intelligence. The expression looked unnatural on him.

"My daughter is smart as a whip, my Lords, I assure you, but in a military conference?" Mother questioned, barely able to keep her voice to a respectful tone.

"Smart as a whip? Is that so?" The king looked at me indulgently, but I hardly glowed. Mother called me clever occasionally, but I suspected she only meant in comparison to the other illiterate servant children who didn't sneak into the king's private library.

I dropped a quick curtsey. "I try, Highness."

"Well, then it's decided! Scarlett and Worthington shall depart at noon." The king clapped a hand on my shoulder and reached his other hand forward to rap at the closed door.

Promptly, the messenger entered. "Mistress Pennington, may I escort you back to the kitchen while Mistress Pennington is outfitted for the journey?" He ushered Mother out. She didn't look a whit happy, but seemed to be mollified that the king was only interested in me as a symbol of my youthful and intelligent generation.

That was hardly the end of the story, though.

"Scarlett." The king instantly removed his hand from my shoulder, and the smiling faces of the three men immediately went serious. "You are to have quite an important role in our peace talks. We have enlisted your help because you are an innocent, unsuspicious young woman, and as such will have access to certain areas of the castle that none of us old men would."

"For example, Lord Von Noir's private document room," put in Lord Ricardo eagerly.

"How on earth would I be able to access a private document room?" I asked, alarmed at this mission's change of in direction.

King Valjean spoke up, his tone grave and thoughtful. "I am personally about to ask you for an extraordinary favor, Scarlett. Many lives of our countrymen hang in the balance."

The men traded looks, and Lord Ricardo took over. "My dear, Lord Von Noir is Beaurmont's warfare advisor and he has a particular…predilection… for young girls. And if you can… serve… this predilection, then it is entirely possible that you may be able to slip into the secret room adjacent to Von Noir's bedchamber and look for any documents that may relate to their war strategies," Ricardo explained. "It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that the kingdom of Beaurmont may have stumbled upon some old black magic that allows men to turn… into beasts." He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper for the last two words.

I stared at Lord Ricardo. Had he gone mad? "This hardly sounds like peace talk activity," I managed. _And was he asking me to sleep with a pedophile from Beaurmont?_

"Of course not. The peace talks are just a ruse," said the king, as though he was stating the obvious.

"We intend to obliterate the beasts of Beaurmont before they can invade," explained Worthington in a no-nonsense tone.

Lord Ricardo piped up. "Can you imagine the sweet, innocent citizens of Murdogh in their little wooden houses in the outskirts of the forest, right at the edge of our boarders? How vulnerable they would be…" The lord's voice had taken on an odd tone and he let a violent shiver run through him.

Worthington clapped a meaty hand on Ricardo's shoulder. "Get a hold of yourself, man," he rumbled.

I felt extremely uneasy. Not just at Lord Ricardo's strange behavior, but at the entire proposal. It took honestly everything I had in me not to vomit or faint. Did they truly want me to whore myself out to this Von Noir person?

King Valjean looked at his men, then back to me. "As you can see, this is a profound threat that holds great emotional significance for many of my council's greatest minds." He motioned to his chief advisor, who seemed to have gotten himself in order by now. "Using dark magic, the armies of Beaurmont have the unlimited potential to invade and commit atrocities in our kingdom, perhaps even within these very walls."

I didn't very well believe in magic. Clara and a few others from the kitchen sometimes prepared strange herbal remedies for sickness that worked miracles, but these cures were the most proof of the supernatural that I had ever seen in my life. The idea that the king believed that Beaurmont had a magical army of beasts sounded like pure insanity to me. Then I remembered that the king's library had a full section of books on witchcraft, so I suppose the king must have been superstitious type.

I turned to King Valjean and curtsied respectfully, trying to hide my incredulity at the entire situation. "I am afraid I may not be suited for the job, Majesty. I am hardly well-bred enough to charm a lord," I simpered, trying to act like a dullwit. My voice came out shakier than I intended, though.

"It hardly matters. The courtiers of Beaurmont aren't well-bred either," Ricardo interjected carelessly.

_Well, ouch._

The king was a little more tactful, but also more forceful. "On the contrary—I think you will be quite suitable, and I have very sharp instincts; therefore I am sending you." His tone had an edge of briskness, telling me that his little favor had just become an order. I would be going to Beaurmont tonight.

I tried to swallow my lightheadedness and feign acceptance. "Sire, I know nothing of magic—" this was a lie; I had read through several of the king's witchcraft tomes on a lark "—But any service I can do for my kingdom, I am willing."

The three men beamed with satisfaction.

"I knew you had a lion's heart, my dear," the king praised. "From the second we exchanged words."

Ricardo leaned over toward the king and said in a low voice that I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear or not "We'll have to get her cleaned up."

I might have blushed if the situation hadn't been so surreal. But the grime and the bad dress came with the station and there was nothing for it.

"Now we just have to cart you off for the seamstress to doll up," said Lord Ricardo to me, more jovially, and in a louder voice that made me certain that his comment before was an attempt at subtlety.

The king and his men happily ushered me out into the messenger's care once again, so that they could resume their plotting for the fake peace talks. As I exited the gloomy chamber, the king commented to me, "Lord Von Noir is an avid reader; he is especially fond of Thristle's works."

_Fuck Thristle,_ I thought furiously. I would never read him again.

When dusk arrived I was seated in a carriage rumbling through the palace gates of Beaurmont, wrapped in a red traveling cloak.

A/N: Don't worry, the king will NOT be Scarlett's love interest or anything ridiculous like that. She is entirely correct when she assumes he is not attracted to her.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to drop a review :]


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